#art that destroyed my wrist to do

[egg-on-a-legg]

befuddled by the fact this hasnt been redrawn yet

(ty to the squad for letting me steal your guys to use as bg characters gjdfgkfd)

[clownfucker21]

Do you think Edgar would like laying in the sun in grassy fields?

I think he would.

[cleverreports]

We report: the sky is too full. Or rather - there are too many clouds, densely packed together until there is absolutely no way to squeeze anymore in there. We are trying to determine whether this represents an issue. Time passes, yet the clouds only seem to crowd even more.

[iknaenmal]

Trickster terezi + some jaderezi hehe

[cowboyposer]

Chat I reassure you that getting a stress ball that's squishy enough WILL encourage you to do your craft stretches I'm so serious

[milo-is-rambling]

Guy confusing nicotine withdrawls with a break thru in his art block has shaking hands and is pacing his bedroom saying shit like “no it’s like, I see it, I can feel it. It’s in me it needs to get out. I can feel it can’t you see it? Are you seeing it? Can’t you see? It’s beautiful.” to his pets

[theoldsports]

SOUR.

Art Donaldson x Reader (Patrick Zweig x Reader) | SORRY series | 4.2k words

it’s finally here by popular demand. Patrick has entered the plot. this is set before all of the prior chapters, two days before the Donaldson wedding. can be read as part of the SORRY SERIES (read more episodes of their lives here) or on its own. lemme know if you’d like to be on the taglist.

warnings: 18+. angst. it’s brutal angst. more than allusions to Patrick’s canonical use of hard drugs. rehab, allusion to an OD, mention of Art’s disordered eating patterns. they’re bad for each other in a good way. the Donaldsons have a friendly dog. coveting another man’s wife. discussion of niche sexual fantasies. making out. biting. tornados/extreme weather. running away from your problems.

“Art?”

“Nngh.”

“Artie, wake up.”

“‘M up. Fhhh… ‘m up. What’s the matter?” Art grumbled with half shut eyes. “Somethin’ wrong?” He whispered even though they were alone. It was nighttime which meant whispering to Art.

“I don’t like this storm.”

What a sign that storm should have been.

Art smirked. “We’re getting married in, like, three days and you’re worried about the weather?”

“There’s a tornado warning. Or watch. Whichever the worse one is. I saw it on the news.”

Art frowned. “You ever been through a tornado?”

“No.”

Art rolled over from his position in [Y/N]’s arms to face her nose to nose. “I have. A lot. Close your eyes,” he commanded softly. His arm slotted into the dip of her waist and pulled her closer. “Close ‘em for me. That’s it, that’s it.” He coaxed as she followed his directions.

“I don’t see what this has to do with—“

“Shh, listen,” they both got quiet. Rain pelted against the windows. Wind whistled. Branches cracked and crunched. Thunder boomed. [Y/N] could see the gleam of lightning even behind her eyelids. “Hear it?”

“Which part?”

“All of it.”

“Yeah.”

“Great. Congrats. Your ears are workin’ best as they can,” Art teased to try and get his fiancé to crack a smile. “Now, which one’s the loudest? Which of the sounds?”

“You breathing.”

“I’m flattered. Which one outside?”

[Y/N] listened. “Right now? The rain, I think.”

“We’re in the clear for now. Let me know when the wind’s louder. Like that real, real crazy whooshing, whistling sound. When it starts whipping like that, we’ll go in the bathroom and lock the doors, yeah? Hell, we can head in now if it would make you feel better?”

“What if I fall asleep before the weather gets worse?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll stay awake,” Art yawned. “How about I get you up if I notice a disturbance. I gotta take care of my wife, right?”

“I’m not your wife.”

Art sighed. “…I know. I’m just practicing.”

Fortunately, no tornado ever touched down. And Art was still there when [Y/N] woke up.

It always amazed her that Art was still there everyday. For every nasty thing she said to him that she didn’t mean, every argument where she told him Patrick was right, every tennis match won or lost, every natural disaster, every tear shed. Art was there for all of it. He liked the bad moments as much as the good ones because it meant simply more time spent by [Y/N]’s side. He wasn’t going anywhere. Ever.

It was too much power, [Y/N] frequently thought, that she had over Art.

[Y/N] faced Art and brushed his strawberry blonde hair away from his forehead. Art often looked exhausted. He wore his tiredness on his face and shoulders. The exhaustion of constantly chasing, people-pleasing and being a professional athlete could destroy a kid. Art wore it like a Boy Scout badge. [Y/N] could watch him look relaxed forever. It was so rare he looked like that.

“Good morning, guard dog,” [Y/N] whispered. Art stirred. She could tell he was awake even though his eyes were shut due to that crease the reappeared between his eyebrows. It was never not there in his waking moments. Slowly, Art’s hand crept up and gently clutched [Y/N]’s wrist. Art used his grip to slide [Y/N]’s hand down his own drowsy face. He planted a kiss on her palm before tiredly looking at her. “Good morning.” She repeated to him.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” [Y/N] replied. Gray sunlight filtered through the window. “You ready for today?” She smirked.

“What’s today?”

“Patrick’s in town.”

Art dramatically threw his arm over his face and groaned. “I thought he was in tomorrow… Everything was so peaceful… And quiet,” Art mumbled into his elbow. He couldn’t keep a straight face for long and resolved into a soft laugh. “Whose babysitting?” He asked, peering his blue and brown eyes over his arm.

“I’m picking up the cake today, so I figured I could use his strength.”

Art sat up a bit. “You’re getting it today?”

“In the later afternoon, yeah. Why?”

“It’s gonna be, like, stale.”

[Y/N] glanced over at Art. “If we had gotten cupcakes like I wanted, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“You’re such a little jerk.” Art teased.

“Me!” [Y/N] gasped. “It doesn’t even matter because it’s not like you’re gonna eat it anyway because you don’t eat anything.”

“Little jerk!” Art said with his crooked smile widening. He leaned in, slotting an arm over her. “You heard me. You’re a little… troublemaking jerk.” Art’s nose almost pressed against hers.

“Oh yeah? Why are you marrying me then, hm?”

“…You’re pretty,” Art grinned almost timidly, bowing his head. His flat vocal timber sounded like the verbal equivalent of a blush. “Like, really, really pretty. Even if you suck.” Tenderly, Art leaned the rest of the way in to kiss [Y/N]. Once and then twice and then seven times. Maybe fourteen.

And they would have stayed like that all day.

They would have.

BANG BANG BANG.

Like gunshots.

Their lips parted and they held long eye contact. They paused. They sighed.

“Patrick.” They both said.

With a bend of his arms, the full weight of Art’s toned body collapsed on top of [Y/N]’s.

“Pretty baby!”

“No. ‘M pretending he’s not out there,” He laid flat on her, head on her chest. “Can’t go anywhere now.”

BANG BANG BANG on the front door again. Cheese, the couple’s Labrador mix barked at the sound from downstairs.

“Art!”

“Mhm-mm. Nope. Too bad. Sucks for Patrick.”

[Y/N] huffed. “You’re upsetting the dog.”

“He’s upsetting the dog,” Art started to laugh. “He showed up early. I’m just laying here. Hey, hey!” Art jeered as [Y/N] wiggled out from underneath him from backwards. She tried to inch away off the side of the bed. Her shoulders slumped against the carpet, while Art held her legs in place on the bed. [Y/N] dangled in a half on-half off sort of way. Her oversized Stanford t-shirt rolled up during the drama, exposing her breasts to Art. Unashamed, he stared.

[Y/N] twisted her foot into the side of Art’s face, causing a small cry of disgust from him. Just enough chaos for her to slip away. Without hesitation, she tossed the lightweight door open and skittered down the stairs with Art’s long gate keeping pace behind her. His arms reached out in an attempt to grab her. “He’s early! He can wait! He’s never been early in his whole fucking life!” Art laughed. Cheese jumped and barked at the hysteria.

The chase continued until [Y/N]’s hand hit the doorknob and chain. She unlocked it immediately. As [Y/N] ripped the door open, Art’s arm encircled her waist yanking her to the side with the force of his momentum, causing her to laugh with glee.

And on the other side of the door was Patrick Zweig.

Smiling impishly, Patrick took in the disheveled appearances of his two favorite people. He bit the inside of his cheek. “Nice boner.” Patrick smirked at Art, while he pulled [Y/N] into a side hug.

Art didn’t have a boner, or at least a proper one. But the comment was enough to get Art to look. He rolled his eyes and pulled Patrick in for a hug. Cheese ran over to the door for attention, when Art greeted Patrick.

Art closed the door. Patrick ducked down to greet the Labrador too. He liked Cheese, but wouldn’t necessarily choose to be around a dog in his free time the way that Art and [Y/N] did. Cheese really liked Patrick, much to his chagrin, so he pretended to be nice. While Patrick sat on the floor with the animal, he looked up at his best friends. “What’s with the clothes? You just get up?” Art with no shirt in just tube socks and boxers, and [Y/N] in Art’s old college shirt and underwear. They had all seen each other like this so many times growing up that no one particularly cared that the future Donaldsons looked so post coital. It was pretty normal. Patrick’s smirk sliced further across his unwashed face with the ghost of a laugh. “Were you guys fucking?” He said like a horny teenager.

[Y/N] laughed hard and kissed her lifelong best friend on top of the head on her way to make a pot of coffee in the kitchen. “No.” Art sighed in disappointment, flopping onto one of the barstools in the kitchen. This disappointment was either disappointment in Patrick for asking, or disappointment in the lack of sex due to Patrick’s arrival. It was Patrick’s fault either way.

When the dog got bored, Cheese wandered into the kitchen for nonexistent scraps. Patrick pulled up a chair next to Art and dropped his backpack on the floor. “How’s it going, man? You look good. Feeling ready?” He asked, leaning forward to tap Art across his bare knee.

Art nodded as if it say it’s a sure thing. “Thanks. We miss you. We appreciate you being here. It means a lot.”

“I appreciate you being here,” [Y/N] cut in. “Because you’re in my half of the wedding party.” She and Art were always in constant competition over who loved Patrick more. Art wanted him to be his best man. [Y/N] won out, though, having known him since the age of seven and Art only since age twelve.

“Ladies please. Not all at once.” Patrick said. He stood from his chair and wrapped his long arms around [Y/N] in a proper hug finally. Briefly, his chin rested on her head. He stopped before it went on too long.

“Good to see you, kid. How’s it going?” At two months older, [Y/N] had been calling Patrick ‘kid’ diminutively for almost two decades. It was cuter before he got so tall.

“I called you yesterday.” He replied dryly, stepping back to look at her. [Y/N] noted Patrick’s intimately familiar eyes. Too wide, pupils too dilated. Hm. He wore a long sleeved sweater and jeans. And dirty tennis shoes.

“You bring something nicer than this for Saturday?” She teased, pulling on one of his holey sleeves.

Art snorted at Patrick’s expense and cracked a smile. His freckled elbows leaned onto the counter. “Yeah, yeah. I’m here for two seconds, ‘n you’re already giving me tsuris?” Patrick quipped to [Y/N].

“Tsuris… Never thought I’d say it, but you sound like your mom, Patrick.” [Y/N] scoffed. Art snorted a laugh too.

Patrick frowned. “Guess I have to kill myself then.” He joked harshly to more laughter from the other two. M

“Yep. Have some coffee. Both of you. I’m going to put pants on.” [Y/N] turned away and moved to the stairs.

“Aw, do you have to?” Patrick called after her. [Y/N] tossed a middle finger up over her shoulder as she walked away. Art hissed at Patrick’s comment.

“Do you have to flirt with my wife?” Art sneered without malice.

Patrick smiled that boyish small, wicked, unassuming smile. “She’s not your wife yet.” He snapped back. Art smiled at him in return. The two held each other’s gaze adorned with sick grins for a moment before both of them dissolved into laughter. Everything was a competition, but it was only real if they brought it up.

Fast forward a few hours and Patrick and [Y/N] were in the car. Art had taken off for a haircut because his mom thought he looked like a messy little punk and wedding pictures were forever. [Y/N] drove because Patrick drove too fast and without mercy. He had a sports car once when he was in school and still spoke to his parents daily and had notably wrapped it around a telephone pole and walked out without nary a scratch. How’s that for nine lives?

[Y/N] had a sedan.

She and Patrick both held a cigarette out each of their respective windows as she drove.

“You should really quit, y’know.” She told Patrick.

He leaned over and blew smoke in her face. “Yeah, I’ll quit when you do.”

Patrick’s rude gesture didn’t bear acknowledging. “It’s different. You’re an athlete. I watch movies and review them for a living. It’s expected of me. You… you’re making your performance actively worse. You’re kneecapping yourself by choice.” [Y/N] explained.

“I’m good enough to take the hit.”

[Y/N] laughed and took a drag of her cigarette, asking it out the window. “And you’re arrogant enough to make that comment. Sometimes I look at you and you’re still thirteen. I swear to God. It’s fuckin’ funny,” she said. It was quiet for a moment. “Art, though. He doesn’t smoke anymore.”

“I don’t believe you,” Patrick replied immediately with a wild look in his eye. That was apparently a big surprise. “He’s totally lying to you. There’s no way—“

“Nope! Quit on his own too. He just decided he was done with it one day and got all pro-athlete about it.”

“Y-you’re wrong! You’re so wrong. He’s a liar. Last time I was in town, we—“

“No. No fucking way,” [Y/N] shook her head in manic disbelief. “When you came by to—“

“Mhm. Yep. On the patio. You didn’t notice?”

[Y/N] shook her head. “No sense of smell because of… I’m a smoker. I just… He’s such a shit.”

“A shit and a hypocrite!” They both laughed. When the glee dampened naturally and the cigarette butts were pitched out the window, Patrick looked over at [Y/N]. One good, long look. “You ready for Saturday?” Patrick asked because he was a masochist.

[Y/N] found herself often thinking back on this moment. Was this when it had gone wrong beyond repair?

[Y/N] sighed. She would only ever tell Patrick and maybe Art this. “Yes and no.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t say it like that. I have been ready to marry Art since I was, like, seventeen years old. It is unfathomable to me how much love I am capable of giving him, y’know? If he wanted the Mona Lisa, I’d be robbing the Louvre tomorrow. He’s it for me,” she said. Patrick faked a smile very convincingly and nodded for her to go on. “What I’m not looking forward to is everyone I know being in the same room at the same time. I don’t like other people except you and Art. And my editor. That’s about it.”

“You’re not at all worried about spending all that time married to someone?” Patrick tried to jab at her with his words while he scratched his right forearm.

“Not with Art.”

“Wow. That’s awfully grownup of you.”

“Yeah, well. I’m a grownup. With a smokin’ hot fiancé. And he actually cares if I live or die. Isn’t that crazy? My parents weren’t like that with each other. It’s… Am I allowed to say how grateful I am to you for bringing him home for break that one time, or is that stupid?”

“It’s kinda stupid,” he agreed teasingly. In reality, he wanted more than anything to put himself out of his misery. My fault, my fault, my fault. The words looped in Patrick’s head on constant repeat. He wanted to rip his skin off for so many different reasons. He couldn’t take it and he was trapped. Fuck.

Patrick scratched his right forearm again.

“Truth or dare?” Patrick slurred. He was twenty-one and drunk for [Y/N]’s birthday. She, Art and Patrick sat on the disgusting archaic carpet in Art’s dorm room.

“Uh, truth.” [Y/N] said too soberly to sober.

“Boring!” Art said, putting his hand on [Y/N]’s thigh.

Patrick took a long swing of his beer while he thought. “Okay, okay. What’s your weirdest sexual fantasy?” He asked.

“Ew.” [Y/N] wrinkled her nose.

Art thought the question was epic, but wasn’t going to facilitate his girl’s discomfort. “Hey, it’s her birthday, she doesn’t have to—“

“Um, no. I’ll do it. This is an actual dream I had. I think about it kinda all the time. Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m saying this out loud. It so dumb. So, it’s Art and I’m sitting at the kitchen table with coffee or something. And Art… sings me Happy Birthday like Marilyn Monroe did for JFK. And he’s dressed like Marilyn, but like a boy. No dress, but like the boy version of that look. Then we fuck. That’s weirder than you wanted. That was weird, right?” [Y/N] rambled.

Art leaned in closer to her. They were all drunk as skunks and he couldn’t help bite his lip. His arm pulled her closer to him. Art was handsy when drunk, they were all learning.

“Whose Jackie O?” Patrick asked.

“No Jackie O. And I’m not JFK. He’s just Marilyn. Gentlewomen prefer blondes.” [Y/N] had laughed so hard at that while she tangled her fingers in Art’s sandy hair.

The car ride to get cake and the drive back was the last proper conversation [Y/N] and Patrick had. The pair got home. Nothing seemed unusual to [Y/N] at all. They talked the whole time without any dry spells. The cake, in pieces to be assembled, was carefully toted in and placed way out of the way from disaster. Patrick took his bag to the bathroom, claiming he was going to shower.

[Y/N] shouted after him. “You know where the towels are!”

Patrick looked back over his shoulder at her with a smirk and closed the bathroom door behind him.

And he went out through the bathroom window.

[Y/N] had no idea he had gone until she heard his car start. For a minute, she thought it was the neighbors. She walked halfway down her hallway and saw the bathroom door open. No running shower water, no half nude Patrick shaving or something. She ran back down the hall and glanced out the kitchen window and watched his new white SUV whip out of the driveway.

[Y/N] stood there for several minutes. Staring and staring and staring after him. Not a single effort to move. The first thing she did was pick up her blue slidephone from beside the sink. She called Art, not Patrick. Patrick made his choice.

[Y/N] hadn’t realized she was crying when Art picked up on the other line.

“Honey? Honey, you there? You buttdial me?” Art said. [Y/N] thinks he said shit like that for several moments before she spoke. She just faced the window and stared for what felt like ages.

“Patrick’s gone.”

“Hm?���

“Patrick’s gone.”

“What do you mean he’s gone.”

“He climbed through the bathroom window and drove off. We-we didn’t have a fight. Or-or… He just left. Like it was nothing.”

“I’m on my way. Stay where you are.”

Art rushed back in his blue-black jeep wrangler. It ripped into the smooth driveway causing the tires to damn near squeal. When he got out of his car and bounded to the door, it was clear that about half of his hair had been cut instead of all of it. [Y/N] would have laughed in an ideal situation.

“Baby, hey, what happened?” Art said breathlessly as he unlocked the door. [Y/N] sat at the seldom used dining room table the two of them used to hold their junk mail, sitting straight up and looking through Art. Art was alarmed. She never sat at the table and rarely was her face so expressionless. She was always feeling, expressing, something. He couldn’t tell if she was crying or not, but her eyes were red.

“Patrick seems to have decided not to join us this weekend.” [Y/N] said clearly.

Art closed up the door behind him and walked over to [Y/N]. His scraggly hair and bewildered expression lessened into some devastated softness. He knelt, as he often did, in front of her and took her softer hands in his. “Can you tell me what happened?” Art asked quietly. He felt angry tears sting at the corner of his own traitorous eyes.

“We went out, got the cake, got smoothies, and came back. We… He didn’t say anything weird. Nothing happened.”

“Okay. And then?”

“No, I mean, nothing happened. Like, he was on his best behavior. Like, he was doing so well. He seemed okay. Really okay, y’know?” [Y/N]’s voice broke and finally betrayed her. She choked on her last words and the tears followed. Art’s right hand traveled up the side of [Y/N] face to rest there in comfort. “We talked about everything, like always. He was totally fine. I swear. Then we got home and he says I’m gonna take a shower, or something. And then I heard his car pull away. That’s it.”

“I’m gonna fucking murder him.” Art said, shaking his head and gritting his teeth. He stood from the floor and pulled his own phone out of his pocket. Art leaned against the table [Y/N] sat at. He called Patrick. Then he called him again. And another time. Up to what felt like twelve times or so. He left voicemail after voicemail.

“Hey, call me.”

“Hey, it’s Art. Call me.”

“Art again. Call me back. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m sorry about the last one. Patrick, call me. Are you coming home?”

“Hey, man. Fuck you. Fuck off.”

“I’m sorry about the last one too. I’m… Understandably, I’m kinda… Fucking pissed at you. I don’t need to talk to you like that, though. Are you okay? Are you safe? What happened? You can talk to me.”

“You’re an asshole. I wish you could see the look on [Y/N]’s face right now.”

“Don’t come back.”

Eventually, the voicemail box was full.

[Y/N] reached wordlessly for Art’s hand. She could feel his rare anger climbing. He got this ridiculous blush across his cheeks when he got angry and she could see it against the sunset’s glow. “Art?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry this happened,” He said, turning his eyes to her. “I’m so sorry, hon.”

“It’s not your fault. You don’t have to apologize, pretty baby.”

“Yeah, but he’s my best friend. He’s your best friend,” He ranted. “That was a dick move to leave like that. I’m sorry that happened to you. He’s a piece of shit.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“No! I do. I do mean that. For the last year, he’s treated us, especially you like trash. Do you not see how much more you deserve, [Y/N]? I don’t know what’s going on with him… Do you?”

“He’s…” [Y/N] looked down. “You think he’s using again?”

Art didn’t say anything, he just looked down. That was answer enough. [Y/N] buried her face in her hands with a shuddering sob. Art pulled her to her feet and into his chest. He buried his face in her hair, unable to hold his own tears back. Eventually, the pair landed on the sagging green couch. Art’s legs wrapped around [Y/N]’s middle. They kept the news on all night. In case he matched an accident description. They called hospitals and hunted for John Does that were over six feet with dark hair and stubble.

“What are we gonna do? He’s… He’s not coming back, is he?” [Y/N] whispered. Cheese rested his heavy beige head on her thigh. He obviously didn’t understand why Patrick had gone either.

“No, I don’t think he is,” Art replied, lips against her forehead. “I’m sorry.

Pathetically, [Y/N] raised her head to Art. “I’m sorry too. I don’t know what I did.”

“You didn’t do anything.” He said. [Y/N] forced Art to lean back against the couch and she laid her head on his chest. Cheese circled for a new position where he could be touching them both at the same time.

[Y/N] knew it was a little bit her fault. She leaned up and kissed Art on the corner of his lips. “It’s my fault.”

“Then it’s both of our faults. You can’t talk about yourself like that. You’re the only you I’ve got, babe.” Art huffed tiredly.

[Y/N] dug her hands into Art’s hair the way he liked. “Can I fix your haircut? Haircut’s a generous way to describe it.”

“Damn, I was actually trying out this new thing. You don’t think it’s cool?”

“Yeah, it’s big for guys who blindly answer their wife’s phone calls, I hear.” [Y/N] said weakly.

Wife was all Art heard and he melted.

“I have never known someone I love as much as you,” Art said. “I’m all in with you. You know that, right?”

“‘Course I do.” [Y/N] did know. She sunk her teeth into the freckled skin on Art’s right shoulder gently and he moaned. Over top of the spot, [Y/N] left a trail of kisses down Art’s bicep.

“I’m gonna call his mom.” He said once [Y/N]’s pace had slowed. Art’s stomach growled. When he got upset, he didn’t eat. [Y/N] told herself it was because he had forgotten to in stressful moments, but wondered if it was a punishment instead. She pretending she hadn’t heard the sound.

“They don’t talk.”

“I know. Just in case he turns up.”

Patrick did turn up. About ten hours later, wet and unconscious in the emergency room. Following a psych eval, Patrick went to a short stint in rehab. He had gone once prior at the age of twenty. Needless to say Patrick missed the wedding. It was too much money to up and cancel, according to Art’s piece of shit stepfather, Douglas. Patrick made no efforts to contact the Donaldsons since leaving, as he left or following rehab. Despite all of Art and [Y/N]’s tireless efforts to find him, all they had to show for it was his disconnected phone number and a crippling feeling of shame and loss. Patrick had vanished from their lives without giving either one of them a say.

Patrick was gone.

But Art was there for all of it.

TAGLIST:

@toxiclovergirl @basicallynotbreathing @miniemonie2001 @valentine333 @tremendoushorsepeachbanana-blog @athxnss @babyspice6 @diorrfairy @donaldsonsdarling @muthafuckingstargirl @avylanchce @shysstuff @soberbabes @ysuftmikey @pussy-f41ry

[akiranzee]

Hiiiii^^

Do you stilo take request? If yes can I please request Muzan with a newly turned s/o? She just got turned into a demon and is still weak but slowly discovers her Blood Demon Art and makes hin proud

👫 • ° ` — \\ “STAY BY ME”

╰┈➤ PAIRINGS: muzan x demon!y/n ╰┈➤ W/C: 0.5k+ ╰┈➤ CONTAINS: fluff, & muzan is 1,000 while reader is 23. ╰┈➤ A/N: HELPP THIS HAD SO MANY TIMESKIPS SRY😭😭 i was actually braindead for this one

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------------Complete!------------

“y/n, you’re training again?” muzan appears right behind you, sauntering towards you as you exhaled exhaustedly, not bothering to look back at him.

for a demon, you were as weak as a human, hell — maybe even some ordinary humans are stronger than you.

“what did i say about training so late?” muzan’s voice was strict of warning, but it was far from threatening. he grabbed your wrist and tugged you back inside your shared house, but you stubbornly tried to pull away.

“i... i have to get stronger, muzan.” you stammer, “i was so weak that i almost died, but... you saved me and gave me this second chance, and i’m not gonna waste it.”

muzan can only sigh of the determination within your eyes, but he too, was a stubborn man himself. and so, he carried you on his shoulder in one swift motion, and despite your attempts to squirm and wiggle away, his grip on your waist and thighs never wavered.

a soft squeak could be heard as he gently dropped you to the bed, “sleep.” he demanded, and left the bedroom.

~~~~~

months had passed, and you still hadn’t discovered what your blood demon art is, you’re starting to think you don’t even have one.

no matter how many trees you’ve destroyed, no matter how much flesh you ate, no matter how much blood you drank, you were still as fragile as a human.

you wanted to give up, despite your driving force of being helpful to your beloved muzan, you were just a hopeless case of a demon.

months passed once again, and still, your blood demon art had no signs of showing. you thought to the point if it was because your training sessions were so quick, barely above three hours before muzan picks you up and drops you to bed.

so, you decided, that after he does that, you sneak out to the window, making sure to go further into the forest so he wouldn’t hear a single sound of your struggles, cluelessly unknowing about muzan’s ability to still be able to see you.

as you reached the forest, slowly, you closed your eyes and steadied your breathing, as you urged yourself forward and brought all your energy to your fist, which landed heavily on the tree right in front of you.

yet, still, nothing had changed.

thump, thud, thwack. hours had passed, maybe an hour left before the sun had risen. sweat and tears were dripping from your face, frustratedly punching the tree at random.

as a lone tear dripped down from your face, and as a loud yell emerged from your throat, suddenly, a light yellowish light had appeared from your fists, then, the tree had fallen to the ground, in a burnt color and smell.

panting, a soft, sophisticated clapping could be heard from behind you. immediately, you turned around and saw muzan sauntering towards you, “very well, i congratulate you for disobeying me once again, y/n.” the fake, friendly smile had been lost in his handsome face as he said your name, now looking at you with disappointment and dread.

a single sweat had dropped to the side of your temple, and in that swift, single second, did he finally carry you off the ground and on his shoulders.

despite his unfriendly demeanor, it wouldn’t take a genius to see the pride in his smile.

───────────── ☆ ─────────────

© akiranzee || do not steal, plagiarize, or repost my works without my permission.

[rinhaler]

We Groove and We Dance

CHAPTER SUMMARY: After Megumi destroyed your art coursework, you decide to skip class the following day and start fresh. But Yuuji invites you to a paint party you can't resist. Hopefully nothing goes wrong!

boyfriend!yuuji itadori x f!reader x bully!megumi fushiguro

WARNINGS : 18+, dubcon/noncon, consensual dry humping, bullying, fingering, drugging, choking, degradation, bladder failure (NOT piss kink), vomiting, marking??? clubbing, choking.

WORDS : 5.7k

notes : damn megumi's kind of a dick huh asdfghjhgf

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You didn’t dare utter a word when you got into Yuuji’s car. It was just as well, really, because he kept blathering on about his class. Apparently one of his classmates took a huge fall while jumping hurdles. It was embarrassing for the boy, but hilarious for all of those who witnessed.

Normally you’d be laughing with Yuuji. His laugh is so contagious, and his smile is the type that could make you smile too, no matter how upset or angry you were. But not today. Today your heart is thumping, if not for the music Yuuji is blaring in the car, you’re certain he would have heard the sound of your vital organ pounding against your ribcage. Your eyes are hollow. All you could do was face forward out of the front window and hope to get home as soon as possible. You keep replaying the moment that made you temporarily mute over and over in your mind. That wasn’t you. You’ve never felt that way before. Pure, unadulterated hatred. The way you destroyed Megumi’s sketchbook wasn’t normal. The insane laughter that followed wasn’t normal either. It’s like he broke you. Is that his plan?

Is Megumi Fushiguro trying to break you?

The first word you spoke to Yuuji since you stepped into his car was a sharp ‘no!’ after he asked if you wanted to get a McDonald’s before you headed home.

All you want is the comfort and safety of your house. You want to lock yourself away and forget every single thing that happened today.

As soon as you step foot inside, you slam the door behind you and lock it instantly. Your boyfriend turns to face you with a raised brow, he knows something is going on and he isn’t the type to ignore his intuition. But instead of questioning you, he pulls you closer to him by your wrist and gently kissed at your neck. His sweet lips were tickling you and even in your terrified state you couldn’t help but giggle.

“Do you wanna talk about it baby?” he asks you.

“I don’t think I should…” you whimper, nuzzling yourself into his chest.

He squeezes you tighter, closer to his body. Repeatedly smothering the crown of your head in quick, loving kisses.

“Do you wanna sit on my face while you talk about it?” he teases, kissing you again as he waited for your answer. You’re pretty sure it was a joke, but you know how much Yuuji loves eating you out, so if you actually wanted to do that, he’d be more than happy to oblige. You softly push him away and fake-punch his arm.

“Not today.” you speak, turning away from him to go into your bedroom.

What you do want, is a nap.

You don’t even have the energy to put any pyjamas on. After getting yourself down to your panties and bare chest, you collapse on top of your mattress and curl into a ball. Yuuji follows you into the bedroom, he didn’t pressure you to talk, but he rests his hand on your shoulder as your body rises and falls while you sob silently.

“I hate seeing you like this, try and get some sleep. Okay?” he tells you, you can’t answer with words. But you nod in agreement. “Do you want me to get you anything?” he wonders. You shake your head in response. He leans over to kiss your cheek. He stays with you for a while, until he's sure you’ve drifted off. It didn’t take too long for the pressure of the day and your crying to knock you out into a heavy nap.

You needed this.

You really needed this.

Three hours.

You napped for three hours.

You wake up at 8pm, confused and agitated. You were slightly irritated that Yuuji didn’t wake you, because you knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight now that you’ve slept to such a ridiculous time. When you get out of bed, you pull on one of Yuuji’s old t-shirts and leave your room to find him.

But you can’t be mad.

You couldn’t be mad at him after you told him you didn’t need anything, but he went to the store anyway. He was sitting comfortably on the sofa, eyes drooped, clearly bored of whatever he is watching on the TV. In front of him is a spread-out selection of chocolate, crisps, biscuits and gummy sweets. His eyes widen when he notices you, and that trademark smile of his sprawls across his face.

“I didn’t know what to get, so I got all of your favourites.” he tells you as he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. Tears began to prick at your eyes. It had been a hard, draining day. And yet, even without telling him a single thing he managed to brighten your mood. “I rented The Shining too, it’s your favourite right?”

“Right.” you earnestly smile, completely touched that he went to so much effort for you.

“Even though you get scared every single time we’ve watched it together.” he taunts playfully, he begins to pat the space beside him on the sofa inviting you to sit down.

“Don’t poke fun, it’s not my fault Jack Nicholson is such a convincing actor! He’s amazing and—”

“Yeah yeah, save it for the movie princess. You can do your own commentary you’ve seen it so many times.” he interrupts before you could finish your sentence. He was right though. You could talk about the film the entire time about what you like about it and little tidbits you knew.

And he’d let you.

He’d let you and he’d smile while you did it.

The amount of snacks you consumed is criminal. You actually think you might die or explode at any minute. Yuuji ate even more than you did, and you couldn’t believe he was fine. You don’t know where he puts it, you’d be impressed if you didn’t feel so violently sick from over consumption. The movie ends, but you couldn’t be bothered to move from your cosy spot. You’d gotten yourself comfortable, nestled into Yuuji’s chest while he held an arm around you.

A squeal rips from your chest as Yuuji picks you up in his arms bridal style. You forget how strong he is. The way he holds you makes you feel like you weigh nothing at all. It was disappointing that he didn’t carry you all of the way to bed. Instead, he dropped you off in the bathroom. He wetted your toothbrush for you and put on some toothpaste before he did the same for himself. You were grateful, because of the lack of energy you had you knew you wouldn’t have done it otherwise. You’re looking at each other as you brush in the mirror above the sink. Foam forming in both of your mouths. After you both spit, he pokes harshly at your chest. You pull the fabric assuming he means you dribbled a bit. But when you’re at your most vulnerable he takes the opportunity to lift his finger and flick your nose. You try to begin playfighting with him; but he instantly grabs your wrists and throws you over his shoulder.

“Nice try.” he laughs.

Yuuji opens the bedroom window as far as it’ll go before turning on the fan he bought for the room. The heat is unbearable, and the fact you were both full of food wasn’t helping matters either. He lay on his back while you turn away from him facing the window. He slips a hand up the back of your shirt and began to delicately trace with his fingers, knowing the tickling sensation helps you sleep.

You pluck up the courage to tell Yuuji an idea you’ve had before you drift off to sleep for the night.

“I’m not going to uni tomorrow.” you tell him bluntly.

There’s an uncomfortable silence. It’s a beat of silence that’s somehow filled with a boisterous amount of noise that makes your stomach churn. There’s not a word spoken. But you can hear the irritation in your boyfriend’s throat as he coughs to clear it. You can feel the way his relaxed face tenses and contracts as a scowl forms. It’s impossible to miss the furrowing of his brows, the squinting of his eyes or the clenching of his teeth.

“Fushiguro said something to you, didn’t he?” he almost grunts.

It's so easy to love Yuuji. It's so easy to be hopelessly in love with him, because he just knows you. It’s not even been a year since you began dating but he can read you like a book. You should have known, really, because he’s always like this. He knows how to read between the lines and know exactly what you mean. Anyone else would assume you were just skipping, taking some personal time off to be lazy and lounge around. But not Yuuji. Because he really knows you. He knows that you don’t take time off unless you absolutely have to. He had to battle with you to stay home around Christmas time when you caught a winter cold.

So what other reason would you want to stay home other than Megumi Fushiguro?

“Tell me what he said.” he demands. You could feel him burning holes into the back of your head as he awaits an answer.

“He didn’t—”

“Don’t lie to me. Don’t cover for him. You need to tell me, now.” he says as his volume increased. It scares you a little. He’s never been angry with you before, so he’s never had any reason to raise his voice or yell. But you know he isn’t angry with you, he’s angry at him.

“Please. Yuuji please I don’t want to talk about it. I promise he didn’t do anything I just,” you pause, feeling the tears well in your eyes again while you thought about it. You couldn’t stand Megumi. You couldn’t stand that he was making you lie to your boyfriend for the first time ever. It wasn’t like you were planning on keeping it to yourself forever. You just needed a plan. You needed time to think. “It wasn’t his fault, really, it was mine. He was showing me some ink and I spilled it all over my sketchbook and ruined everything. I’m just a little stressed since I’m gonna have to start all over. I just… I need tomorrow to myself to try and make a new body of work.”

He's silent again. You can hear him breathing heavily, he’d wound himself up thinking about Megumi upsetting you. He's trying to steel himself so he doesn’t snap. His resolve and agitation crumble when you rolled over to face him. Your big teary doe eyes staring up at him so innocently, he couldn’t stay mad when you were like this.

“I know you’re lying to me.” he speaks.

“’m not!”

“Stop it,” he snaps a little, shutting his eyes to compose himself again. “I’m not gonna pressure you to talk to me. If you’re hellbent on covering for him that’s on you. Take the day off, I’ll keep out of his way. But please, please baby, talk to me and tell the truth when you’re ready.” he tells you.

It broke your heart a little when he rolled away from you. In the nine months you’ve been together, he’s never forgotten to kiss you goodnight. He wasn’t forgetting to do it now. He wasn’t kissing you on purpose.

He really is mad at you.

“… Yuuji, I love you.”

“I love you.”

It still stung how your night ended with Yuuji. It was killing you knowing that you really had upset him and made him so cross with you.

You wake up at 6am, your jagged sleep from your ill-timed nap made you groggy and exhausted. When your eyes open, you turn to see Yuuji with his arm wrapped around your waist. Like he couldn’t resist you.

You free yourself from his hold, leaving the bedroom and heading for the kitchen to get yourself some breakfast. You didn’t have the energy to find something to watch while you scarf down your cereal, so you turn on the first morning breakfast show you came across. You don’t care about a single thing they're talking about; it's like white noise while you crunch away.

You wash your bowl when you finished, instantly finding a new sketchbook in the cupboard you bought for your next project. You’d have to remember to buy another new one for next semester. You're exhausted, completely drained and miserable. Anything you produce will probably pale in comparison to your original book, but there's no time to waste and you need a head start on your absent day.

Yuuji got up two hours later. Lazily wandering around as he dresses himself and gathers everything he needs for his class. He says a quick goodbye before grabbing onto the door handle to leave.

“Don’t I get a kiss?” you ask. You feel absolutely pathetic. You never thought you’d be the type of girl to be so needy and crave validation from your partner. But he’s never been like this with you before. He’s always been so affectionate and loving with you, so this new side of him made you insecure and uncomfortable.

But ever the perfect boyfriend, he approaches you to give you the kiss you so desperately desire. It's quick with not much passion behind it. He gives you a half-hearted smile before getting up to leave again.

“I love you.” you tell him.

He halts his actions when he hears your voice break. Tears threatening to break free from your eyes yet again. He comes back closer to you, giving you a romantic, passionate kiss against your yearning lips. Yuuji pulls away to kiss your forehead, before looking intently into your sodden eyes.

“Baby. I love you. So. Much.” he insists, it's all he needs to say to reassure you. Your heart pounds as the tears break free from your eyes. It's a relief. He waves goodbye before he finally leaves.

You have the whole entire day to yourself. And you're spending every single hour from now until bedtime painting and getting your sketchbook up to scratch. And now that Yuuji isn’t mad (or at least as mad) at you anymore, you feel confident you can do this.

When 2pm comes around, you feel ravenous. The hunger pangs you’ve been furiously trying to ignore are becoming unbearable. You ordered takeout so that you wouldn’t have to waste time cooking that you could be spending painting. You were working up to the very last minute until the doorbell rang. You hold your paintbrush between your teeth as you answer, warranting a very awkward look from the delivery boy. You kick the door closed with the back of your foot, instantly diving into the pizza box to satiate your starvation.

You moan loudly as soon as the dough and cheese combination hit your tongue, the taste makes you consider whether you prefer the flavour of the food or sex with your boyfriend.

It's a consideration you’d be keeping to yourself.

– ping –

You just about die when the notification comes through on your phone. It's only a text from Yuuji. You open it quickly, it's a link to a Facebook event. It was bright and colourful, quite contrasting to the club it was associated with.

PAINT PARTY @ INDEPENDENT

­You scroll down to see that Yuuji has added both of your names to the guest list.

YUUJI: I know ur busy with ur coursework, but maybe? It’s tonight only. x

You don’t reply instantly. It’s been a while since you’ve been to Independent, or Indie as it’s more commonly known amongst students. It’s your favourite club. It’s a little dingy but it’s huge and the drinks are cheap. It’s favoured amongst students since the first and second floors have different vibes. The main room downstairs plays old school R&B and hip-hop, whereas upstairs has a smaller room that plays indie music. They have a special blue and pink drink you can’t get anywhere else. You know a girl who has the signature drink tattooed on her body, so she gets free entry for life. Your phone pings again when you take a little while to reply.

YUUJI: We don’t have to go. But it’s been a while since we went, and we always have fun! x

YOU: No ur right. Lets go!! xx🥰

It’s embarrassing to be honest, how quickly your determined resolve crumbles. You internally mock yourself as you get ready for the paint party.

'I’m gonna work all day until bedtime.' Pfft.

You decide to slick your hair back, it’s glamourous and easy which is best since it’ll likely be covered in paint before the nights out.

You hear the door slam and Yuuji instantly rushes towards the bathroom. He slams the door after himself, but rushes instantly back out to come and greet you.

“Hi,” he kisses your cheek, panting from being so energetic around the house. “this came for you, looks like it’s from your parents.” he tells you, dropping a letter in front of you before rushing back to the bathroom.

Your vision drops to the letter in front of you. It’s got your mother’s dainty elegant handwriting on the front and your stomach churns as you flip to see a gorgeous pink wax seal with your family crest on the front.

Not today. This is a problem for tomorrow me.

Once you’ve finished with your hair, you apply a quick helping of gloss and other finishing touches to your makeup. You opt to don a pair of old jeans and a plain white t-shirt. You’re not willing to sacrifice your gorgeous wardrobe for the sake of a paint party. Part of you worries that you’ll look out of place and like you haven’t made an effort, but you’re sure everyone else attending will likely have had the same idea.

Yuuji steps out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist and abs glistening from the water trickling down his body. Your heart is pounding. He looks good enough to eat and he smirks when he clocks that you’re ogling him. You get out of your dressing table seat and approach him. He’s wise to you though, because as soon as you reach to unravel his towel, he grabs your wrist and tuts.

“I just showered princess.”

“But—”

“You’re so cute when you’re needy. Are you wet? Look at ya, squirming around like that f’me.” he continues to tease, pushing you backwards so you fall backwards onto the bed with him on top of you. Both of your hands are pinned above your head with one of his. Your chest is heaving. You need him. And you need him now.

You start to grind on his thigh slowly, trying to ease the tension building between your thighs. A cheeky grin finds it’s way on his face as he’s amused by how desperate you’re acting, your cunt longing to feel him inside of you. He starts to move his thigh to help you, but stops as soon as he starts, knowing that you shouldn’t

“Please, Yuuji please. Just a quickie, I’ll do the work.” you beg pitifully, bucking your hips quicker so you gain some more friction against your core.

“No baby. Maybe when we get home,” he said with a wicked smile on his face, “we always have great drunk sex, don’t we?”

There’s a line outside of the club as you step out of the cab. But that is the line for people who came to the club without putting their names on the Facebook guest list. Yuuji takes your hand as he guides you up to the stamp lady sitting in the booth, telling her both of your names. He’s such a gentleman, he even pays the fee for the pair of you to get in. She instantly finds you both and stamps your hands so you can go inside. Your eyes glimmer as both yours and Yuji’s white t-shirts illuminate under the UV lights once you get inside.

He noticed you were feeling a little insecure over your outfit choice, so he copied you.

White t-shirt and jeans.

You needn’t have worried though, your suspicions were correct. Everyone else in the club seems to have a similar idea to dress simpler rather than going all out. Some people were dressed more scantily than others, but it was all in good fun.

There are members of staff on the balconies above your head. They have enormous plastic guns in their hands that they're shooting down into the crowd. The bright colours make instant contact with you and your boyfriend, and he turns to face you when he hears you squeal and laugh over the pounding bass.

“Let’s get a drink.” he shouts in your ear so that you could hear him. You nod as you let him lead you through the crowd and to the bar.

The bar area is a lot more deserted. There are a few groups sitting in booths and others on bar stools waiting for their drinks. You order the pink and blue special, while Yuuji opted to get himself a bottle of beer.

You’re sure he’ll be switching to pints later as the night goes on.

You notice an odd-looking boy with black hair approach your partner. He taps him on the shoulder, but Yuuji doesn’t notice. You tap him instead, and when he faces you, you nod in the direction of the boy.

“Junpei!” your boyfriend exclaims as he engulfs his friend in a hug. They exchange pleasantries and Yuuji introduces you to his friend. “I didn’t think this was your thing Junpei, nice to see ya.” he smiles happily.

“I got invited and saw your name on the guest list and thought why not! It’s been a while.” he explains.

You’re told that they were friends in high school, but Junpei went to a different university to study psychology. You stand up to leave, telling Yuuji you need the bathroom.

“I’ll come with you.” he says as he stands up to follow you, but you stop him.

“I’ll be fine Yuuji! Junpei, keep him out of trouble while I’m gone.” you joke, making everyone smile hard enough to form apples in their cheeks.

You wade through the crowds again, getting doused in paint as you do. All of the colours and mess are so pretty, the people in the crowd look amazing and it’s making you so giddy to be part of such an electric atmosphere.

When you reach the top of the stairs, your heart stops as you see a familiar head of uncontrollable black hair outside of the toilets. You’re instantly regretting not telling Yuuji to accompany you.

It’s Fushiguro.

He’s got a girl pinned against the wall, his face is covering hers, but you can hear her moaning. You realise outside of his pretty exterior he has no class or manners, which you probably should have known sooner. But seeing him publicly finger a girl outside of some club toilets is the icing on the cake.

She’s insatiable, her fingers don’t know where to settle. You see them travel through his hair, on his arm, his waist. She’s got to be faking it. She’s being impossibly loud and irritating. You attempt to back away slowly, before he can notice you. But the fraction of a second he decides to observe his surroundings, he sees you. He whispers something in the girls ear before she rushes away down the other side of the corridor. He sticks his two fingers in his mouth and sensually sucks the strangers juices as he approaches you. You try to turn and run but he’s faster than you. Grabbing your wrist with his free hand and slamming you against the wall.

He hikes up your leg to rest on his hip, and he’s grinding into you with his face burrowed into your neck. Your voice has been stolen from you and you’re frozen once again. You know he’s not trying to seduce you or fuck you. He’s putting on a show for everyone standing close by. Because while people will think you’re a ravenous young couple dry humping in public, while people will think he’s kissing your neck, he’s whispering obscenities in your ear.

“I missed you in class today.” he begins, his left hand travelling to settle on your raised hip. “That was a clever fucking present you left in my sketchbook sweetheart.” he grimaces, clearly losing his cool as he relives the discovery of his ruined art.

“I’m sorr—”

“Shut. Up.” he spits, silencing you completely. “I had you down for a pussy. I didn’t think you’d fight back, and it was only fair after all. An eye for an eye.” he tells you a little more calmly. You’re still terrified. He smiles menacingly when he can feel you trembling under his grip.

“Please let go.” you whimper.

He rests his forehead against yours, his eyes are filled with malice. They’re bloodshot and furious. His smile bares almost every single tooth in his mouth as each corner stretches as close to his ears as possible. He moves both of his hands, wrapping each of them around your neck. And squeezes tight.

“I don’t like playing fair. You cunt. Did you really think I was going to let you get away with that?” he snaps. You were clawing at his hands, but it did no good. Tears began to stream down your face from the lack of oxygen, desperately trying to take some in.

“I can’t- breathe, Meg- umi- can’t,” you struggle, hoping he’d take pity on you. His jaw bubbles slightly as he held eye contact with you, and let you go with a flourish.

You fell to the ground, taking in screeching inhales as you held your tremoring fingers around your swollen throat. Without looking you could already feel the black and blue blemishes discolouring your sensitive neck. He looms over your defenceless frame as you try to recover.

He isn’t smiling.

He isn’t angry.

If not for what he just did, he’d just be Megumi the moody new boy. It was alarming to you how quickly he could turn it on and off. He turns his back to you and heads down the opposite end of the corridor. You take your opportunity to scurry to your feet and rush back to your boyfriend.

The time was creeping up to 2:30am. You managed to calm down before you joined with Yuuji and Junpei so he didn’t suspect a thing.

It's calmer with him, you know you're safe with his arm wrapped around your shoulder as he converses with Junpei and his friends. Your group alternates between going to the dancefloor and getting covered in paint and hanging out in the bar area and enjoying your drinks. Whenever you need the bathroom after your encounter with Megumi you ask Yuuji to escort you. He was a little drunk, but not too out of it to look after you.

Your sides were splitting from laughter while hanging out with Yuuji and his friends all evening. Their humour and the combination of flowing alcohol is almost enough to take your mind off being attacked.

It felt good to forget.

So, you keep drinking more… and more… and more…

“I never thought we’d see the day miss perfect gets drunk.” a friendly feminine voice speaks from the bar stool behind you.

When you turn to face the source, it’s two of your classmates. In particular, the Megumi fan club. You’ve never seen them in a club setting before, it was understandable that they didn’t think you had this side to you. It's almost embarrassing trying to formulate a response for them, you're hiccupping and slurring your words like a fool. But they're bubbly and joyous and make you feel good, you feel welcome in their little group.

You're surprised however since they seemed furious that you dared to befriend their dear Megumi.

“My friend just texted me from the dancefloor, did you know Gojo is here?” you hear Junpei speak from the other side of you. Itadori yells loudly in excitement as you turn to face them. “Shall we go see him?” Junpei follows up.

“Nah,” he tells the group as he squeezes you tighter. “I’ll see him if he comes to get a drink.”

“Y-Yuuji,” you hiccup, “don’t stay because of me, go and see your friend!” you command, not wanting to spoil his evening.

“I’m not leaving you.” he speaks plainly.

“We’ll look after her.” your classmates speak.

You both turn your attention to the girls who were grinning from ear to ear. You smile back at the offer, their smiles feel sincere and you feel safe to stick with them all night while your boyfriend reunites with his friend. But you turn your body back to look at him to gauge his reaction. He’s so loving and protective, you aren’t sure he’s be willing to risk leaving you while you're drunk with two people he doesn’t know.

“Are they friends of yours?” Yuuji asks. You nod quickly.

“They’re in my class.” you almost bark at him in your intoxicated state. He gives them a look. He’s assessing them carefully; you can see the cogs whirring in his mind as he’s debating whether he trusts them enough to leave you in their care.

“Okay,” he speaks before kissing you on the forehead. He looks deeply into your eyes, almost begging you to pay attention and pleading that you’ll process what he’s telling you. “I’ll only be in the room next door. Come and find me if you need me.” he says, a serious look etched on his features.

“I- duh, I will.” You respond almost mockingly. He knows you don’t mean it, you’ve had one too many pink and blue pints.

“Please take care of her. I won’t be long.” he tells them.

You wave goodbye, but you don’t even get the chance to watch him leave as your friends spin your stool around to face the bar. ‘Shots!’ They both scream, ordering a round. They also order you another pink and blue pint to accompany the one you hadn’t finished. You're all laughing and joking. It's nice to bond with more people on your art course, you usually just keep to yourself and do your work, but you're always friendly and approachable whenever anyone speaks to you.

The girls ask you so many questions, taking a genuine interest in you. It's hard to answer in your drunken state of mind, but you do your best. You all connect over stories of your lives. Things like ex-boyfriends and vacation stories, all of which made you laugh and smile. The drinks keep flowing and there's no sign of your boyfriend returning. You're worried he’d panic if you left your spot, but when you all agree that you need a bathroom trip you couldn’t resist.

When you all stand up from the stools, the girls stand on either side of you and take one of your hands. It's so sweet, so you won’t lose each other in the crowd as you try to find your way.

You feel so dizzy, so sick and uncomfortable, you aren’t even sure how you're standing up.

Thankfully your new friends manage to pull you up the stairs and to the girls bathroom. When you enter, the three of you make a beeline for the famed ‘twin toilets’ the girls toilets were known for. It's a cubicle that's double the size of the others, so there's room for a plus one or a plus two for a toilet trip. The blonde girl sat down first, but she was just sitting on the lid. She didn’t pull her panties down to pee, it was like she was just taking a load off her feet.

“How long does it take to work?” the redhead asks her friend while she lords above her.

You lost your balance and fell on your backside. Both of your legs were stretched out in front of you while your back rests on the cubicle wall. Your head slouches forward and you can’t keep your eyes open while you try to focus on not puking.

“Please… please guys I need to—”

You were interrupted with the feeling of warmth travelling through your jeans. You were unable to feel embarrassed as you knew what was happening. But your mind is so completely and utterly fucked you couldn’t bring yourself to care enough.

“Oh my god, it’s working. Did you just piss yourself? Ew…” the blonde asks and giggles, her friend joining in.

You're about to speak, to defend yourself. It was their fault for not letting you go first. But while you try to find the words, vomit escapes you instead. It covered your chin and white t-shirt. You're a pathetic drunken mess covered in paint, pee and sick. The girls were in hysterics at your misfortune.

“Fucking gross. That’s so nasty,” the redhead exclaims, still cackling. “That pill Megumi told us to slip in her drink was really strong, huh.” she muses to her partner in crime as they look down at you.

You lose all ability to be coherent or focused. So, with the final blow of that earth shattering sentence, your eyes close and you fell backwards onto the sticky club toilet floor.

You don’t remember anything after that. You don’t remember the girls cutting open your t-shirt and writing bitch on your chest in blood-red lipstick. You don’t remember them leaving you and shutting the door carefully behind them so no one would notice you. You don’t remember the kind woman who did notice you, helping you up. You don’t remember that same woman and her other friend carrying you through the club while you repeatedly babbled musings of

'Yuuji… Yuuji… Yuuji…'

You don’t remember finally finding him, and him crying out in heartbreak as he saw your miserable beaten frame in the arms of those women. You don’t remember him taking you home in Gojo’s car, the designated driver of his own group he was out partying with.

You don’t remember sleeping for 45 hours straight.

© 2021 fuwushiguro | © 2023 rinhaler

[lovecoree]

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 — 𝐊𝐓𝐇

pairing: painter!tae x black fem!reader

synopsis 🎱: taehyung doesn’t tolerate your attitude, especially when he’s not in his right mind for his next painting. punishing you is the only way for you to know he’s serious about that.

warning: SMUT ! mdni , oral ( m receiving ) , filming ( with consent ofc ) , huge d!ck tae ( yes this is a warning ) , reader is black coded , dom!tae , brat!reader , brat taming , let me know if there’s more !

a/n: this was an anonymous request, also my first time writing smut so it’s probably trash, but hope you enjoy

Taehyung was an amazing artist, the art ideas he had in mind came easily to him, wrist moving swiftly as he painted on a blank canvas, but today was a bad day for Taehyung. He couldn’t seem to stay focus nor come up with ideas that seemed new and interesting. Everything looked the same leaving him more angry and destroying countless of canvases— left ripped or thrown all across the room.

Taehyung was busy mixing up paints in a container with aggression, grey sleeves pushed up and veins protruding on his hands and arms, and glasses on the tip of his nose. He was pouring his anger out on mixing that he didn’t hear your footsteps nearing the door, not until your voice stopped all his movements.

“You’re still going at it” Your voice came out in a sarcastic tone as you took in the sight of the messy room and your boyfriend standing in the middle. Your voice got stuck in your throat when taehyung only turned his head and not his full body, eyes boring into yours as his expression was blank. “What do you want.” His cold tone was nothing new to you, you knew Taehyung can be cold towards you— or anyone when he’s angry about his work not coming out the way he wants it to be, but that doesn’t stop you from letting your true sarcastic comments slip out from time to time.

Your feet thud against the marble floor on purpose as you moved closer towards Taehyung, slightly kicking the half used canvases out of your way. Taehyung hated when you thud your feet, always telling you to pick your feet up when walking. He eyed your movements before slowly looking up at you with an intense look— a warning look that you did not take seriously. First mistake.

Folding your arms over your chest, wearing nothing but Taehyung’s grey shirt that’s oversized on you. “You’ve been in here for five hours, you promised me you’ll only be in here for two hours tae.” Which he did promise, the sincere promise he made right after giving you a kiss. Taehyung sighed as he fully turned his body around to face you. Small container and paint brush still in his hand tightly.

“Y/N sometimes promises are meant to be broken, you’ll be fine. I’m busy.” His blunt comment made you mad as you rolled your eyes. He didn’t tend to be harsh with his choice of words, but the lack of creativity and your sarcastic tone was making him annoyed. “Then why the fuck did you make the promise in the first place tae?” Taehyung jaw clenched as he looked at you with a hard glare. The bratty behavior and talk back is something Taehyung never liked, especially when you cuss. “What I say about cussing?” Taehyung stepped closer to you, towering over your body, but you wouldn’t waver. Second mistake.

“Boy I don’t care what you said, it’s my mouth. Now like I said fuck you make—” The gasp you let out as Taehyung finally broke his calmness, throwing the container of paint and paint brush on the floor— thank god it was washable paint. He gripped your neck pulling your body closer to his as you looked up at him. “Baby I told you I don’t tolerate disrespect or you cussing me out, apologize and I’ll let it slide.” Taehyung’s tone was deep, deep to the point you felt your panties start to dampen.

The look he gave you was telling you to utter something slick again, so what you do? Utter something slick again. “I’m not apologizing for shit.” Third mistake.

“That’s it take it all.” Taehyung groaned deeply glancing down at you as he gripped the back of your neck holding you still as he fucked your mouth. Loud gaging noises was music to his ears. “You look so pretty with my cock down your throat.” He smirked loving the sight of your tears pooling down to your puffy cheeks, spit and precum glistening on your chin and down on the floor, balls slapping on your chin repeatedly from Taehyung’s hard thrust.

“can’t bitch now, can you?” Tilting his head back, gripping the wooden table from behind him tightly as he bucked his hips. You looked up at him as you tried your best to breath out your nose, griping his thick thighs to slow his movements. “Nah, be the brat you wanted to be and take it.”

Taehyung’s girth had your mouth stretching painfully, but you enjoyed it. His tip hit the back of your throat repeatedly as you moaned around his length sending vibrations to taehyung’s cock causing him to moan. “Fuck baby, just like that.” He loved seeing your eyes filled with tears, made him weak in the knees. “S-Shit baby let me record you being good for me, hmm?” You nod your head yes as Taehyung stopped his thrust.

You could finally catch your breath as Taehyung slipped out your sore mouth. Cock drooping low from being to heavy to stand on its own. You hear him unlock his phone and pressing the record button. Gripping the base of his cock you stick out your tongue to let him slap his fat red tip on it. Pretty wet eyelashes blinking up at him as he slide back in, going back to his brutal thrusting.

Taehyung gripped the phone tight as he looked at the camera catching the pornographic scene. Biting his lip trying hard to suppress the smirk seeing you gag around him as he held you in place, nose hitting his freshly shaved pubic bone as he stuffed his cock down your throat. What felt like minutes he finally let go of your head causing you to pull back completely. Taking a huge gasp of air as spit connected from his swollen tip to your now puffy lips.

“You look a mess pretty.” You whimpered looking up at him breathing hard. He wanted to ruin you completely as punishment. Normally he would edge you on, but since you ran your mouth so much he decided to put it to good use. “Cock drunk already?” He slightly tapped your face with his free hand before gripping your jaw to look up at the camera.

“Apologies for being a brat baby and maybe I’ll go gentle.” Your hands rubbed up on his thighs as you looked up at him so pretty. “I-Im sorry for being a brat, it won’t happen a-again tae.” Voice practically raspy from the stretch, Taehyung smiled. “Good girl, finish me off.” He moved his hand from your jaw, allowing you to finally take control. His cock felt heavy in your hands as you jerked him off placing him back in your mouth, bobbing your head back and forth.

“Oh my— fuck you’re amazing.” To be honest this is exactly what Taehyung needed, from all the pent up stress he had today, fucking your throat was the only option in his mind to release it. “Fuck baby I’m close.” Taehyung’s moans turns into whimpers as you pulled away to jerk him off faster sticking out your tongue.

“shitshitshitshit.” Taehyung’s jaw dropped as his eyes rolled back, stomach caving in as thick ropes of his cum splattered all on your tongue, lips and cheeks. You looked pretty to him.

Taehyung turned the recording off, placing his phone on the table behind him. He watched as you scooped the remaining cum off your cheeks and lick your fingers clean.

“You are truly amazing baby.” Helping you up off the floor Taehyung kissed you passionately, tasting his own bittersweet cum. The kiss was sloppy yet loving. “No more distractions, ok?” Placing a harsh slap on your ass you smiled. “Ok.” You giggled as he picked you up bridal style carrying you to y’all shared bedroom.

[yinyuedijun]

hi I am testing out whether or not I'm shadowbanned. however I don't want to spam the main tags w irrelevant posts so I am offering this snippet from art of the bedchamber part 2 \o/

tw soggy sfw danheng (pre-1.2)

Dan Heng remembers when he assumed his human form for the first time.

It is a difficult scene to forget: the wreckage of an IPC ship, engulfed in the red glow of emergency lights. A robotic voice signalling the steady loss of air: Attention, attention, the system had blared in a pleasant, sunny tone. Attention to all passengers. The Altair has experienced irreparable damage to its seal. There are 120 minutes until complete oxygen depletion. Please make your way to the lifepods. The Vega is on standby to receive all survivors. Attention, attention.

The PA system said nothing of the vengeful ghost who’d wrought all that destruction—both upon the ship and its passengers. Probably everyone who could have made such an announcement was dead.

Yinyue Jun, the wraith had called him, mara-poisoned eyes shining as his gaze fell upon his features. The same features that Dan Heng was now studying in the broken mirror, fragmented by cracks running through the glass. Dan Feng. Sinner. You’ll never escape your karmic debt. You'll never escape your punishment. I’ll find you whenever you are, no matter how far you run. Even if I forget everything else of my mortal life, I'll never forget your face.

His face.

Dan Heng had never seen much of his own face in the darkness of the Shackling Prison, but he'd been strung up and whipped for its likeness. Punished for whom it once belonged. This is simply the weight of your karma from your past life. It was you who buried your beloved. It was you who nearly destroyed your homeworld. It was your fault, Dan Feng, that she died. How could you do that to her? To your friend? High Elder, do you know how the Vidyadhara suffered for your pride? It is you who is at fault for the deaths of so many of our kin. You, you, you. This is what you deserve, Yinyue Jun, for your arrogance. it matters not if it was your past life, it matters not if you're now a child, you have no right to shed those tears—

Seeing his face—Yinyue Jun's face—for the first time then, with its gleaming irises, its jadeite horns, its otherworldly glow—

—Dan Heng hated it.

His features were a curse, one not unlike the powers he'd inherited. You should never be allowed to roam free, Dan Feng. You cannot be trusted with the powers of a High Elder. Not with how you lost control in your last life.

You are a danger to us all, Dan Feng.

This is what you deserve.

Dan Heng was eager to sculpt a new face for himself. Relieved to lock away his powers. Anxious to paint into existence a dream he’d long imagined as a child. The dull green of his eyes, the short clip of his dark hair, the only hint to his past a cinnabar stroke along his lashline—these were features he’d long envisioned for himself growing up in the Prison, devouring countless novels about worldly life on the Luofu. All those stories about human men and women, leading quaint and romantic lives unfettered by destiny. All those tales about mortals far removed from his existence as a disgraced High Elder.

Looking like this—plain, unassuming, without the marks of a Vidyadhara elder—Dan Heng could pretend to be one of those mortals. He could act like he'd never felt the bite of shackles in his wrists. Like he'd never felt the burn of a welt slashed across his back. Like he'd grown up in sunlight, not the darkness of a cell.

He could act as if he were in control of his own destiny.

It would be impossible, of course, to truly entertain these delusions. But he still likes to imagine it every now and then—particularly with you, nowadays. He thinks of it when he stares at your reflections in the mirror in the early morning, brushing your teeth side by side. He thinks of it when sees the photos that March 7th has taken of the two of you, pinned up conspicuously on your bedroom walls. He especially thinks of it when he catches himself looking at the selfies that you always insist on taking with him—which is very often, given how you like to snatch his phone and update his lockscreen with them.

To the uninformed eye, all of these scenes make the two of you look like a simple, human couple—one right out of a novel.

Dan Heng thinks about this most often: a normal life with you, in which he is not burdened with the title of Yinyue Jun. In which there is no chance of staining your future with the transgressions of his past. In which you’ve never once been hurt because of his relation to Dan Feng, and where you will never be hurt again.

If paradise is but a dream, he thinks, gazing at the contours of your soft expression, then I wish to sleep forever.

dividers by @/cafekitsune!

[sunnyferr]

"Akatsuki Yandere + a song for each one"

Hey! This is my second post! I hope you like it as much as you liked the previous one<3

No mentioned pronouns

WARNING: YANDERE, Obsession, manipulation, obsessive jealousy, verbal aggression, mention of physical abuse

part 1 / part 2

characters: Deidara, Sasori, Hidan, and Kakuzu

playing: NEW MAGIC WAND - Tyler, The Creator

Deidara, one of the youngest members of the Akatsuki, I would say he's closer to the "teenage romance," so to speak. I see him as the "sweetest," if you will.

Still, I view him as someone who manipulates emotions. He would use the classic "don't you love me anymore?" as his main weapon. He would never lay a hand on you, but he would play with your innocence and kindness towards others, especially towards him.

"Do you want that nice guy to end up dead because of you?... Hmm, that's what I thought."

Gradually, you would see how your interaction with the outside world deteriorated. He hardly let you communicate with other members, always under his watchful eye.

He would hug and kiss you as much as possible, but only if you were obedient to his rules and commands. He tends to give the cold shoulder when you don't obey what he ordered.

His hands on your cheeks, squeezing lightly as your plump lips parted, he looked at you like a small and defenseless being, one who wouldn't harm a fly. He knew he had you under his control. Your teary eyes made him want to hug you tighter, so tight he could crush your ribs, but love was like his art, explosive, isn't it?

playing: hostage - Billie Eilish

He does not have a heart, Sasori does not have that feeling of "love" like Deidara, he only feels obsession towards your body, your delicacy, and your sweet demeanor... the most innocent puppet in his collection.

He would always be by your side, protecting his next work of art, constantly admiring your eternal beauty, his eyes piercing your beautiful waist and hips, your beautiful hair and your bright eyes, but in his gaze, it is cold, only showing greed to have you there, just for him.

"No, I don't like you at all, you seem annoying to me, what I like is your body..."

He would be in your room all night, watching you sleep while he fixes his puppets, watching your chest rise and fall with your breaths, your body relaxed and stretched, he looks at you with desire, undoubtedly you will be part of his next collection.

He never kissed you, never touched your body, he saw you as so fragile, as if you were made of glass, he did not want to harm your perfectly cared for skin, it would be sacrilege for him...

His hands so close and yet so far from your body, with a destructive desire to strangle you and turn you into his next work of art, to him it seemed... exciting, imagining the way you writhed before him, it made him feel in some way, as if he had control of your life, he loved being able to possess you, to do whatever he wanted with you, like a puppet...

playing: Ultraviolence - Lana Del Rey

In addition to being aggressive as a partner, he is a crazy obsessed with his partner, and always forces you to be behind him, chasing him like a dog in search of some love, because he couldn't even provide that to you.

He always saw you as a fragile doll, that he really wanted to break, stain, just to satisfy his morbid fascination with you, he always wanted to destroy you, sees your tears as the most beautiful and adorable thing, even if they are from the pain he himself caused you.

"Look… are you about to cry again? You are so cute when you cry for me…"

His eyes always on you, watching every move, if you spoke too much, he would correct you when you got to his room, grabbing you tightly by the wrist, quickly dragging you to his room.

He won't really feel guilty about anything, just pretends to by bringing you some flowers and maybe some chocolate or candy he knows you like, so you feel a little loved, and then he will continue to be the same human trash as always.

A wet cloth on your cheek, he had hit you again for throwing a "tantrum", you were crying, in the darkness of the room, until he opened the door, with the same bouquet of flowers as always, throwing it beside you, as if that would make the bruise on your cheek disappear, he slowly approaches you, and places a hand on your injured part, and leans in to give you a kiss, a kiss that seemed sweet, but in reality, meant nothing to him.

playing: Drunk Walk Home - Mitski

A really tough man, very materialistic, not so jealous, he really doesn't care, what he doesn't want is for you to leave his mental control, he is very materialistic, he loves money, how far would he go for it?

I know it's hard to hear, but he prostitutes you, of course, only with the people he wants, he really has a fetish of seeing you surrounded by other men, it's something that actually increases his sexual desire, seeing you trembling and embarrassed is something he craves.

"You look so beautiful when you look like that… you should be grateful that I see you as a beauty…"

You really agreed to that "job" because he threatened to leave you if you didn't accept, really a manipulator, playing with your kindness and love for that man.

although he is a LITTLE kind with the aftercare, helping you up and taking you to the shower, giving you privacy to shower, since in half an hour, more clients would come…

he watched the steam come out from under the door, while he was counting bills, going back to the raw memories of your tears running down your cheeks, really exciting to be honest, he stopped counting when he felt the water turn off, and saw you coming out of the shower with just a towel covering your intimacy it made him think of the beauty he had in front of him, too bad that beauty was not only defiled by the man…

[phlurrii]

The art is freaking d o n e.

Despite the hiccup of my iPad needing 7 days to back up and the doing it in 4, the final comic update of this arc’s art is DONE. FINISHED. KAPUT.

IM FREEEEEEE

Jokes aside, I only have dialogue to do which means it’ll be live on patreon within the next few days depending on how classwork + new job training/scheduling goes (I finally got a job after a painful 5-6 months qwp) and the comic update currently in there is freed from its shackles and released to the wild, with this one shortly following. I’m VERY freaking excited because this last comic’s quality destroyed my wrist, but looks incredible,,,,,,,

After these it’s the finale animatic and then some slice of life stuff before the Noe arc cuz I need a break, the Noe arc will be similar quality and…. I need a beat before I tackle this again XD

Anywho I’ve done nothing, but this comic/comms for ages now and I’m looking forward to some artistic freedom ;D!!! Meaning I’m gonna close comms for a bit and instead will put up a wait list. I may return to that front in December or January cuz then I’ll be switching to a new job in April! Anyways very fricking excited, hope this all will be worth the wait \qwp/!

[rin-fukuroi]

𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 [𝐀𝐥𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦]

Please do not translate or publish my works without my permission.

The originals of my works can be read here

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Pairings: Alhaitham x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, Kaveh's cameo, masturbation, dacryphilia, sweet fantasies of rough blowjob;D

Note: English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are errors in the text qq

Oh, words cannot express how much I love Alhaitham, and I was always sad to see that almost no one wrote about how he masturbates. This is a huge omission, I think.

art: @eriimyon

In part, Alhaitham was even jealous of his annoying roommate. Although in many ways Kaveh's lifestyle and beliefs seemed absurd to the Secretary, he couldn't deny the fact that the unnerving architect surprisingly had the ability to easily make new acquaintances and win people over. Alhaitham has never needed such a skill, finding social interactions an empty, and sometimes even harmful, waste of time. Communication with people is not beneficial, which means it is not necessary. So why is he so desperate to communicate with you, stumbling over words every time he tries to squeeze out something more than a silent nod of greeting?

This is illogical. This goes beyond his understanding, and therefore raises more and more questions. He spends whole evenings assessing his physical condition, noting a rapid heartbeat in your presence, distraction, sudden verbal degradation, an inexplicable desire to attract your attention and…

Right now, he was really thinking about the cause of his new problem. Was the aching erection in his now tight trousers caused by irritation after Alhaitham noticed how Kaveh was frivolously cooing with you, while he still couldn't figure out why it was so damn annoying for him? Perhaps. Although earlier outbursts of anger had not caused such a reaction, the Secretary went through several more options, settling on the only one that seemed plausible and reasonable enough to him.

Alhaitham is jealous.

The Secretary is in turmoil, but mentally he ticked off all signs of jealousy, catching himself thinking that his envy and anger towards Kaveh lately were caused by feelings he had for you. How reckless and stupid. Feelings defy logic, which makes it impossible for Alhaitham to even try to control them.

This irritates the poor scientist even more when a hopeless quiet growl leaves his throat and a large palm dives under the table. He can't concentrate. You're not letting him focus. The expression of pleasure from communicating with his roommate on your face and the way Kaveh's hand rested shamelessly lightly on your shoulder, while Alhaitham didn't even dare to speak to you, infuriated the Secretary. He shouldn't have these feelings. He shouldn't be thinking about how he could grab your wrist, yanking you out of a nice conversation with a drunken loser architect living off of him. He shouldn't think that he can give you more. He shouldn't think about how, instead of wasting his time chatting with Kaveh, you could now calm his excitement, which is as uncontrollable as the feelings that are sickeningly bubbling in his chest.

And he doesn't think about it. Not at all.

His long fingers quickly straighten the belt, lowering the soft fabric of his trousers. And Alhaitham doesn't think at all about how your miniature hands could do it. While one of his hands lifts up the top that hugs his embossed torso, allowing a hard, languishing erection to hit his lower abdomen, Alhaitham doesn't think at all about what the expression on your face might be if you were under his table right now.

The Secretary hisses hopelessly, wrapping his calloused fingers around the throbbing flesh. His gaze slides over the papers scattered on the table for the last time before all thoughts of unfinished work leave his head. He can't work while you're dominating his mind like a parasite intent on destroying him from the inside. Alhaitham is so angry. Is his anger directed at you, or is he more annoyed by his own impotence? It doesn't matter anymore when his eyes blissfully close, reproducing your image under heavy eyelids.

He's so pathetic. You've barely exchanged a few phrases since he met you for the first time, and he already shamelessly imagines you sitting on your knees under his massive desk, salivating and greedily looking at his heavy cock, alluringly trembling in front of your face.

The fight against common sense was lost even at the moment when his penis treacherously rested against a muscular thigh, once again reminding Alhaitham that even he isn't immune from the primitive desires of his own body.

He wanted your soft lips to open, ready to take his entire length. Your outward purity and innocence only make the Secretary want to break you, blacken you with his insatiable cock, eager to be inside you. He's still tormented by the pathetic floundering of reason, trying to stop him and throw your vulgar image out of his head, but lust and base need immediately muffle the voice of reason, allowing Alhaitham to become an ordinary person in need of immediate discharge for just this moment.

The Secretary revels in fantasies about how you tentatively stick out your tongue, grabbing a salty bead of pre-ejaculate from the urethra with the tip to taste it, imitating this sinful action by stroking the sensitive head with the pad of your thumb. The sweet melody of your honey voice shimmers in my ears as a satisfied moan leaves your heaving chest.

Your seductive charm irritates Alhaitham even in his own fantasies, forcing him to tightly grasp a treacherous erection, repeating his own actions from the picture looming in his mind, where his fingers dive into your disheveled hair, forcibly forcing you to impale yourself on his pulsating length with one persistent and rough thrust. He can almost feel the walls of your narrow throat constricting in gagging spasms as you choke on his cock. You don't deserve mercy. You should feel in full on your own throat how great his disappointment is with his own powerlessness.

His knuckles turned white from the force with which Alhaitham clenched his fist, repeating the aggressive and ruthless pace that he set in your head in his imagination. Ah, your tears look so charming combined with the despair and silent pleading reflected in your sparkling eyes. This is what kind of Secretary would like to see you one day. Your smile makes his heart beat faster in his chest, but just the thought that the corners of your charming eyes would be filled with bitter tears of impotence from his cock destroying you from the inside, delighted Alhaitham. Perhaps he would even like Kaveh to see how you slowly lose yourself and die from his cock. Alhaitham wonders how much he could have angered his roomate if Kaveh had caught him with you doing such a vulgar thing?

The Secretary didn't even have time to notice how his hand began to gain an even more frenzied pace, his hips began to push greedily towards the movements of his palm, and his head fell back on the back of the chair while he was so desperately chasing orgasm, as if, if he slowed down even a little, he would again wallow in these unnerving warm feelings, from which he really wanted to get rid of it, at least for tonight.

Alhaitham can feel the phantom vibrations from your moans in his fantasies. You cry, pressing your nails into his hips, making pathetic attempts to slow down his movements, which further spurs the ruthless scientist to dig deeper into your throat with each new thrust. An image of your neck and the bulge under the delicate thin skin that his dick creates, stretching the spasming walls of your throat, appears before his eyes. How sweet. In his imagination, you choke, but you enjoy the way he defiles you. Your tear-stained eyes seem to beg him to cum in your mouth, but Alhaitham only grins ominously to himself, not going to indulge your desires even in his own imagination. You haven't paid enough for putting him in such a humiliating position yet.

His hips are shaking, and his cock is throbbing and swelling in his hand, which does not slow down for a second at a furious pace. His clouded mind paints a delightful picture of how his impressive organ leaves your warm throat to pour out sticky white threads on your tear-stained face. Hot jets scatter chaotically, settling in viscous drops on your hair, cheeks, eyelids and eyelashes wet with tears as you squint and whimper, still painfully pressing your fingers into his hips.

The palm swings lazily a couple more times before stopping at the base of the shuddering penis. A satisfied low and hoarse moan escapes from Alhaitham's throat and his body finally relaxes and slumps in the chair. It takes him a few seconds to descend from the height of his much-needed orgasm. The thought flashes through the scientist's mind that this pleasure was not even a tenth of what he could have experienced if he had brought all his dirty fantasies to life.

And now your image is finally leaving his mind, leaving behind a sickening aftertaste. For the first time in his life, Alhaitham feels ashamed of his own intemperance, which is completely out of character for him.

Emerald eyes open wide to tidy themselves up. The blurred silhouettes in front of his eyes finally form a clear picture, forcing the Secretary's shame to recede into the background, giving way to a new portion of irritation when he notices wet drops of his own sperm covering his palm, lower abdomen and… Documents lying on the table.

— Damn, — Alhaitham hisses, reaching for the box.

One day you'll have to pay for that too.

[captainremmington-13]

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖋 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖜𝖔

show!Luke Castellan x daughter of thanatos!reader

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own the image above or any of Rick Riordan’s characters/world-building.

⚠️Warnings⚠️: mentions of death, crying, sadness, physical pain, and parental neglect

A/N: i deeply apologize, i felt i needed to set up more context and establish Luke and readers relationship more before getting to capture the flag, i PROMISE it’ll be in this next chapter or the one after that💕

“Castellan!” 

Sixteen-year-old Luke’s head snapped up abruptly to see his brother, Connor Stoll running towards him frantically. If Connor, who was usually lighthearted and cheerful, was panicked, something was really wrong. 

“What’s going on?” Luke stood up, abandoning the art project he was helping a younger camper with. “Is someone hurt?”

“I-I’m not sure. I just heard a girl screaming in the woods, and calling for your help.” 

Luke’s skin went cold. He knew exactly who was in trouble. 

The only child of Thanatos, his best friend.

Connor beckoned for Luke to follow him. The two sons of Hermes sprinted towards the woods, trying to conceal their fear. 

Luke’s heart pounded aggressively in his chest. He couldn’t bear to lose another loved one, it would destroy him.

Finally, Connor came to a halt and pointed into the trees. “She’s that way.” 

“Thank you,” Luke said breathlessly. Running through the woods and ignoring the stares of the nymphs, he strained to hear anything that could lead him to you.

Then, he heard a muffled sob coming from a nearby clearing. 

Cutting the stray branches aside with Backbiter, Luke practically flew through the trees until he spotted you, kneeling on the ground. 

He froze. You were weeping, holding your face in your hands. Your body trembled, but he couldn’t tell if it was from sadness or fear. You hardly ever cried, you were a mellow person for the most part and rarely had emotional outbursts, so seeing you like this worried him immensely.

But most shockingly, you had black wings protruding from your back.  

They didn’t look like bird wings. They had the shape of angel wings, but instead of feathers, they were made of black smoke that swirled gently and occasionally omitted wisps into the air.  

“W-Wh-“ Luke stammered, struggling to find words. “How?”

“I don’t know!” you cried, refusing to look at him. “They just…started appearing. It felt like someone was digging hot knives into my shoulder blades. I ran out here so that nobody would notice them, but then Connor found me.” 

Your best friend knelt down in front of you, gently uncovering your face by taking your hands in his gently. His hands were calloused and rough, thanks to years of rigorous training. But they were comforting nonetheless. 

“Are they still hurting?” he asked, instinctively checking your pulse by pressing your wrist carefully. 

“No…I’m just scared, Luke. I don’t understand what’s going on,” you said, feeling your intrusive thoughts spill out. “What if they don’t go away? What will everyone think of me?” 

Luke sighed. “If they don’t go away, it’ll just be another thing that makes you you. And it doesn’t define you, or take away from the person you already are. If other people can’t look past your new features, they’re fucking idiots who aren’t worth your attention anyways.” 

“But…I feel like a monster. And even worse, I look even more like my father. He has wings too, I’ve read enough about him to know that for sure. I don’t want anything to do with him, why did he make this happen to me?”

“I don’t know why it happened,” Luke said honestly. “We can talk to Chiron and see if he has any advice. He won’t judge you, you know that. And I promise you’ll always have me. I’ll be your friend, whether you have wings or not.”  

Wiping away your tears, you felt the painful feeling in your chest begin to subside. Knowing that he didn’t see you any differently despite this new development settled your nerves, at least a little. Sure, the other campers may see you as monstrous, as a terrifying mutation that needed to be avoided at all costs. All of the new friends you’d made over the past couple years may leave you, but you would survive.

At least you had Luke.

Your Luke.

________________________________________________

After calming down, Luke lead you to Chiron’s office in The Big House. Luckily, the rest of the campers were at lunch, and nobody saw your very noticeable new features.

Chiron wasn’t nearly as surprised as Luke had been concerning your wings. “I suspected that they would appear around this time,” he said. “Your father has passed down yet another one of his gifts to you.” 

You certainly didn’t seen the wings as a gift. They were a curse, yet another thing that made you appear monstrous compared to other demigods.

“So, are they just there forever now?” you asked, fighting down the bitterness in your voice.

Chiron thought for a moment. “Wish them to go away, and see what happens.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” 

“Just try,” Chiron insisted. “Your willpower is more powerful than you know.” 

Relenting, you shut your eyes, focusing on your disdain for your wings. Desperation and frustration overtook your thoughts, and you felt your head begin to throb painfully.

Thankfully, the sound of Luke calling your name snapped you out of it. 

“They’re gone,” Chiron’s low voice declared. 

Sighing in relief, you opened your eyes and looked at the centaur standing before you.

“I advise you to spend time learning to control your new features,” he said. “You must discover the extent of the abilities they give you. Otherwise, they may pose a threat to your safety, as well as the well-being of the other campers.” 

You nodded, despite the feeling of dread creeping over you. “I will. But I may miss some camp activities for the next few days.” 

“That’s alright,” Chiron said. “I’ll let Mr. D know that you are caring for yourself, and need adequate time to do so.”

“I’ll accompany you,” Luke said immediately. You shook your head.

“You have responsibilities, Luke. Who else is going to run sparring classes for the younger campers? Who else is going to make sure the Hermes kids attend archery practice and don’t set a fire somewhere?”

“I’ll have Chris take over,” he said. “He can handle it.”  

“But-“

“I’m not changing my mind,” Luke said firmly. “I’m helping you, and that’s final.”

Gods, as much as it sometimes irritated you, you loved that he was so stubborn. 

________________________________________________

After a few days that felt like an eternity, you came to the realization that you’d gained more power than you initially predicted. 

You could fly. That was to be expected; what else would the wings be for?

You could turn invisible. You only discovered this because a howl coming from the depths of the woods startled you. When you looked down, you could no longer see your body. 

And finally, your senses had heightened considerably. You could tell when someone or something died, even if it was outside the borders of camp. Beforehand, you could only sense it if they were within close parameters. 

The change was scary, but exhilarating at the same time. You knew that once you got used to your new abilities, you’d be even more intimidating than you already were.

Luke had been a huge help. He accompanied you while you experimented with your powers in the woods, but respected your request for him to keep his distance. He would check in on you at every meal, and made sure you ate an adequate amount. At night before bed, he sat with you on your mattress in Cabin 11, listening to you ramble on and on about various frustrations. He understood your anger at your father better than anyone else. He shared the same resentment towards Hermes. 

When you’d tired yourself out, he would bid you goodnight, give you a sweet kiss on the forehead, and climb into his own bed. And within minutes, he was out cold. 

But you stayed awake, staring at the worn-down wooden ceiling of your Hermes’s cabin. 

The fear you’d felt when your wings had first appeared had faded considerably. You felt powerful, invincible almost. 

And with the best swordsman in three centuries at your side, there was nothing in the world for you to be afraid of.  

taglist: @orionspaperwork, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @marvelescvpe, @lovingjasontoddmakemewanttocry, @louweasleymalfoy, @stars4birdie, @stargurl-battleship

Thank you for reading! Pls let me know what you think in the comments!!! Btw, the powers I gave the reader are based on Thanatos’s abilities according to Rick Riordan’s version of him.

Let me know in the comments if you want to be added to the taglist!

[pinkdevil0725]

If y'all remember the post that has 3 aus, how familiar the danger, gay dads au (movie ver) and one of those aus were mine. So I'll give you a few details

⚠️: might have some s#xual content, rape or other

-In this au, Nimona didn't exist in the time where amb and bal were alive, because gloreth actually got rid of her for good a long time ago and the kingdom still built the wall at that time.

-At the ceremony, where queen Val will pronounced the knights as heroes of the realm (or idk) and CHAOS happened with her dead because of Ballisters sword

-Bal got his arm chopped because of ambrosius, the chandelier fell to the ground destroying the floor, and Bal fled leaving Ambrosius

-After all that, Ambrosius was in his home (an apartment or house) thinking about everything... And that Bal lied to him

-After a few weeks and months, Ambrosius got bitter and MAAYYbee a teensy or more cruel. Fans of his got afraid of him and decided to give him some space

Not so sure about this one- the director made him lead the institute and he was chosen to be ruler of the kingdom (idk about this one, I'm not sure about it)

-After 2 years, Bal was found in his hideout by Todd and other knights and they brought him to Ambrosius for him to make a decision of what they should do to Ballister

-Ambrosius took a look at bal while he was kneeling on the ground with his head down, not looking at Ambrosius. He noticed that Todd and his dummies beat him up and he is covered in bruises on his face

-Amb told them to let them go and leaned into Todds ear saying "leave him to me, we won't put him in a jail cell. I'll just make him my prisoner and give him some punishments that he deserves..."

-Todd nodded to him and told his dummies to let bal go and they left

-Ambrosius told bal to stand up but he was frozen in place, so he lifted his foot, put it on his shoulder and pushed him to the floor roughly, making him cry in pain after what Todd and the others did

-Amb asked again and this time he stands up. He ordered bal to follow him and he obeyed

-while they were walking, other people in the hallways noticed that ballister was there but stayed silent and didn't ask any questions about it

-They went to Ambrosius room and he let Bal go in first. Bal went in and shivering in fear of what Ambrosius is going to do to him next

-Then Ambrosius grabbed him by the neck and put him on the bed, still holding his neck.

-Ballister grabbed ambrosius wrists, trying to loosen them a bit to make him breathe but while doing that, Ambrosius just tighten his grip and gave bal (some sort of) punishment

-------------------

- In the morning, Ambrosius was the first one the wake up in the room. He just layed there while bal was sleeping and bare

-Ambrosius then left the room (he has clothes on before he got out) and he went to another room, filled with office materials and a board with sticky notes, pictures etc

Aaaand the rest is history, this au is still in progress with how it ends and what happens next. And with how I came up with this au is idfk why, it just came out in my head after a while of watching the movie. Anyway heres a digital art i did:

"Prisoner au"